


Verdant

by Selador



Series: Sel's Prompt Fills and Other Ficlets [29]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Could be platonic, Gen, Plants, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash, but they already have the daemon repelling headlights, why WOULDN'T you have those
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-06 20:09:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17946305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selador/pseuds/Selador
Summary: Prompto has a special power he's never told anyone about. And then Gladio takes him out camping.





	Verdant

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hanabi_Angel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hanabi_Angel/gifts).



> hanabiangel asked for: "Can I ask for Prompto with the power to manipulate or talk to plants?"

The campsite is gorgeous, and yet Prompto still eyes it suspiciously. “We won’t be sleeping right on the ground,” says Gladio, trying to reassure him. “I’ve got our sleeping bags right here. Plenty of cushioning.”

The look Prompto sent him clearly says that he doesn’t agree, but Gladio decides to let it go. “Wanna learn how to put up a tent?”

Prompto does, and even though he’s no good at it, he has fun trying. The tent fits two average sized people well, and a larger than average and smaller than average person both fit nicely too. They fit even _better_ when Gladio pulls Prompto against his chest and wrap his arms around him.

It’s a nice way to fall asleep.

A rough touch to his shoulder by a small hand wakes him up and he’s standing in an instant with his sword materializing. Gladio’s aware enough to not get himself tangled up in the tent, and he positions himself to protectively shield Prompto, who is wide awake and reaching out to shake Gladio’s arm again.

“What is it?” demands Gladio, adrenaline surging even though he sees no obvious danger. If Prompto freaked him out because he had to get up and pee, he swears to Bahamut…

“We need to go,” Prompto whispers, voice quiet and a little hoarse. “There’s a behemoth heading this way. We need to go before it catches our scent.”

“A behemoth?” repeats Gladio. Shit. _Shit._ He couldn’t take one of those on his own, and Prompto’s unfinished Crownsguard training wouldn’t be much help, no matter what good aim he has. And the protective runes on the campgrounds would mean nothing to an uncorrupted beast. “Wait, how do you know?”

“I, uh, well--I had a vision!”

Gladio stares, but is reassured regardless.. He’s lying, badly, about _how_ he knows, but not that there’s a behemoth nearby.

“Alright,” says Gladio. In a small flash of light, he has a small hand gun from the arsenal. “Here, take this.”

“Really? But I’m not authorized to--”

“Prompto. Behemoth,” Gladio reminds him.

“Right, yeah.”

Quietly, Gladio leads them out of the tent and to the car. He doesn’t bother with the tent--taking it down to put back into the Arsenal would be too time-consuming.

They get into the car. Gladio isn’t a fan of driving because he can’t watch the surroundings while also paying attention to driving, but Prompto’s eyeing the surrounding woods with his trigger finger at the ready.

He starts the engine, which is much too loud in the dark. The rumbling almost disguises the sound of the behemoth, but fails as Gladio knows to listen for it. And, even if he hadn’t, Prompto yells “BEHEMOTH!” and fires.

Gladio floors it.

The car isn’t fast enough to outpace a behemoth. The length of their gait is too great for any landlocked vehicle. There’s still some distance between them, but Gladio can see the light reflecting in its eyes in the rearview mirror, and it’s getting closer. He white-knuckles the wheels, debating if he should give the wheel to Prompto and jump out to give him a chance to escape, and Gladio an opportunity to go down fighting.

Prompto fires again, and the eyes vanish and reappear smaller. “Got ‘im!” he yells, firing again, and again, until the behemoth gives up. They’re too much trouble for prey.

“Woo,” says Prompto, falling back into his seat. “That was a close one.”

The color hasn’t returned to his hands yet. “Yeah,” says Gladio.

They sit in silence as they continue down the road, making their way to Hammerhead. The daemon-repelling headlights illuminate well down the road, and it’s blessedly empty.

“So how’d you know the behemoth was there?” asks Gladio.

“The plants told me,” says Prompto, half-asleep.

“What, the trees told you?”

“Yeah,” says Prompto, nodding tiredly. “I can talk to plants.” He yawns widely, and Gladio does too.

“Why?” asks Gladio, since that seems pertinent.

He shrugs. “Plants are nice.”

“No, I mean, why are they talking to you?”

He can’t really see Prompto’s face, but he thinks he’s looking at him. “Who else would they talk to?”

“Alright,” says Gladio, after a moment. “That’s fair.”

He should really ask _how_ but he’s not really sure that’s a conversation to have when they’d both rather sleep. If Prompto isn’t already asleep. It seems unfair, and also important.

And, well. It can wait.

Besides, if Prompto can talk to plants, he had no excuses not to come camping with Gladio in the future.


End file.
